


call it true love

by symmetrophobic



Category: GOT7
Genre: Gen, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:58:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/symmetrophobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yugyeom builds worlds in his mind and dies when they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	call it true love

pairing: broken!yugyeom/bambam  
rating: g  
warnings: none  
summary: yugyeom builds worlds in his mind and dies when they do.

 

  
Yugyeom sees the world in vague shades of black and white.

He understands that there are no good or bad people, only good and bad things and the people that do them, but sometimes understanding is acceptance and sometimes it’s just another wall that’s boxing him in, threatening to crush him alive.

He likes to trace the lines out of the things he loves. Family. Dance. Friends. He presses fragments of lives and sights and laughter in the winding recesses of his mind and pretends they’re pieces of art, runs them over in graphite until the imprint of them, the taste of them, are set in stone like promises to be pencilled out and remembered.

He realises quickly the portraits of some people are sketched and hung in the museum of his mind more frequently than others, some mapped out so fast that it seems like he’s already memorised every line and shade and undercurrent to their soul. He realises some portraits go beyond the papery skin that coats the entirety of a person, that they cut deeper, past the mass of blood vessels and tendons and bones to reach their hearts.

He realises he etches these hearts on the back of his hand, each outline painstakingly and lovingly carved out in the canvas that’s his flesh, that he knows these hearts inside out to the point that when he clasps his hands to his chest they beat in sync. He realises he loves these hearts.

Yugyeom realises he loves Kunpimook’s heart, loves it so much that he feels the sweet bass of it in his veins when he’s about to sleep, that he sees the secrets and dreams it holds when he closes his eyes, that he feels alive when he feels its pulse through linked hands or brief hugs.

But Yugyeom lives in the world in his head, the one where affection always mirrors like crystal, where confessions are whispered through actions and gazes, where love is currency and not poetry.

So when that world dies in his head, Yugyeom predictably dies along with it.

*

Kunpimook is beautiful in the way flowers are, bursting and energetic and excruciatingly delicate to the point all Yugyeom wants to do is hide him, hover and watch over him and shield him.

But flowers grow to be seen, and Yugyeom can’t dispute that. So Yugyeom stays quiet as Kunpimook blossoms, stays quiet and content watching his beauty from afar, remains ever present and supportive and reassuring in every way he can. Flowers smile at the sun, and Yugyeom knows he’s anything but the light in Kunpimook’s life.

Because for him, smiles are cynical, touch comes in friendly punches, and affectionate words feel like grenades between his jaws, threatening to explode within him and tear him open to reveal the massive entirety of what he feels for the other boy, messy and raw and uncensored like it’s been ripped fresh from his heart.

*

Yugyeom wonders how far pain can extend when he sees their intertwined fingers, when he sees the blush on Kunpimook’s cheeks, hears the laughter that cuts out every piece of him and smears it into the oblivion of that same pain threatening to crush him from inside his ribs.

He paints his fate on the ceiling, then the inside of his eyelids, the night Kunpimook whispers across the space between their beds if he knows what being in love feels like.

Kunpimook asks what it means when your heart beats unhealthily fast, when your words tumble and catch in your teeth before they leave your mouth, when your face heats up like you’ve had a fever. Yugyeom can’t say he knows.

Because he knows love doesn’t feel like that.

Love is a solemnity that hides in passing decades of kept promises and quiet affection. Love is a thousand little sacrifices that wake and die in a matter of seconds and eternities. Love is anything but transient and pretty and emotional.

But he indulges the older boy, teases in soft jibes across the endless darkness between them, and his heart sinks like lead in the oceans of the world he’s built in his mind when Kunpimook bats them away with embarrassed laughter.

He knows the other boy’s secrets because of the number of enamoured murmurs he’s heard in the dead silence of the night about the hero in his life, the one who’s so cool and so handsome and who might just be _the one_ , he hears repeated over and over again until it’s a wretched mantra in his head.

Yugyeom knows Kunpimook wants Jackson.

And by the way Yugyeom sees Jackson watching Kunpimook out of the corner of his eye, the way he lifts an arm to accommodate the younger boy amidst his weird bouts of hyena laughter and funny tangents, the pleased expression when the fake maknae laughs at his jokes or curls up at his side, that desire might just be reciprocated.

But Jackson sees the Bambam under glittery eyeliner and growth spurts and bleached blond hair, the Bambam that tries his best to please the hyungs and dances to perfection and poses or the cameras, the Bambam that gazes at him through eyes glazed over with adoration.

Jackson sees the Bambam that Kunpimook wants him to see.

Yugyeom sees the Kunpimook that’d come in with braces and dark hair, who’d hated him for the first few months they knew each other. Yugyeom sees the Kunpimook that’d cried into his shoulder when the dance instructors berated him for not catching up fast enough, who wakes up with drool on his pillow and accidentally snorts milk up his nose when he laughs, the Kunpimook he had to clean up after when he fell sick and threw up all over their bedroom floor.

Yugyeom sees Kunpimook. And maybe Kunpimook hates him for it.

He wonders if Kunpimook would still hate him for falling in love with it.

Yugyeom decides he’ll never know.

*

Yugyeom decides that if Kunpimook’s a flower, he’s the cluster of thorns that halos the bud, protecting the other boy from everything except Yugyeom himself.

If Kunpimook’s a flower, Jackson’s inevitably the sun that coaxes him out of his shell. Jackson is the entity that grooms him, that adds colour to his life and complements him. Jackson is strength and inspiration and excitement. Jackson is what Kunpimook wants.

So as far as Kunpimook’s concerned, he blooms, stronger and brighter and more confident and beautiful than ever, ready to take on the world.

And as far as Kunpimook’s concerned, Yugyeom fades and rots, useless and outgrown, and waits to be forgotten by him forever.

 

 

 


End file.
